


We Shall Dance Again

by Elanra



Category: No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Also Nezumi sings, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of mythical history and nature, M/M, Nezumi is stupid in love too, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Shion is stupid in love, Travel, or just one hilarious old man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 14:31:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1782421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elanra/pseuds/Elanra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A journey forward; a journey back. This was how Nezumi had changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Shall Dance Again

 

 

> _“Both robbed of air, we both lie in one ground,  
>  Both whom one fire had burnt, one water drowned.”  
> _ **–John Donne _(_ About _Hero and Leander)_**

* * *

 

There was a tingling warmth in the ember glow of sunlight behind his closed eyelids. He remained seated atop a piece of rock in the light breeze, his backpack tucked in between his legs and his face lifted up, facing the sky with a look of unadulterated calm . The sound of a faint prickling of a stream to his left reached his ears. A pair of rabbits were playing in a bush nearby where they had watched him and Nezumi trek past with curious eyes that showed no hint of fear. The animals in nature had already grown accustomed to the mass reduction of human population. They didn’t carry the inherent wary or aversion towards the humans their ancestors had developed for self-preservation. They thought nothing of them apart from having their interests piqued. There was an honest innocence in it that reminded Shion of children, especially SJ when he was still a baby. He found it vastly fascinating.

Though maybe it was because of Nezumi they were more inclined to get close rather than run away.  
Shion smiled again. Watching butterflies land on Nezumi’s hair and rabbits gather in a flurry of white and grey balls of fur at his feet was one of the most beautiful and brilliantly amusing sights he had seen. Only after going on the road with Nezumi like this had Shion realized that he had never before seen him in his true element. He had never laid his eyes on this.. native side of Nezumi that found his way by instinct; the Nezumi that the nature opened up to like a being with a secular consciousness that welcomed and invited him. The Nezumi that followed the sound of wind as it rustled through leaves and knew where to stop and go a round-about way to not disturb an animal that was a bit more possessive of their land than wild rabbits. He knew what the songs of birds meant and could recognize the courteous dance of fireflies.  He was so in tune with the sky and the forest and everything within, Shion half expected him to vanish in the background any second; truly becoming a part of it.

The beginning of summer had touched upon these western lands with vibrant colors. They had walked through a meadow of wild poppies and had rested under the canopy of trees painted in every shade of green. Even the stream Nezumi had been following for the last two days had a deep blue tint to it despite being shallow and quite still with a slow current.  Shion had never witnessed the languid transformation of nature through the storms and breezes of seasons. He had always watched them from behind double layered fiberglass windows from a city where nature could not reign in freedom. He had never inhaled a scent as fresh as the smell of earth after a downpour as they took shelter in a cave and watched the lightning huddled close under a blanket. He had never seen a sight more exhilarating than the view expanding before him on the summit of a mountain he scaled through a journey that took days to complete. He had never understood the hearsay beauty of the sea, a vast blue of indicolite expanding as far as the eyes could see until it seeped into the azure stretch of the sky far into the horizon. Listening about these things, seeing images of them or movies with them was nothing like experiencing them yourself. The pride of trekking up a mountain was only strengthened with the ache in his thighs; the sense of his feet being buried in sand with the slow tide of the waves, was not something he could have felt through watching a hundred documentaries. The solitude of taking shelter in a cave with Nezumi during a rainstorm was nothing like the solitude of their home.

This journey had given him experiences he would remember forever. The longer he traveled beside Nezumi the closer he felt to understanding just what had changed him during his own journey.  There was no better teacher than the world itself to put things in perspective and give you the peace of mind to sort out your thoughts. And people… He had already met so many people that had left their mark on him. The old lady from the small river-side inn they had stayed at on the first week of their journey.  The little boy with a lazy, overweight cat that had told them an age old myth about ancient spirits dwelling in the forest. The young teacher they had met in a fishing village by the sea. There were so many people, living inside and outside of settlements, adapting to the climate and making use of whatever natural resources they could utilize to stay alive. Nezumi was right. Humans were indeed resilient. They were indeed born with an uncanny ability to survive. Not even nuclear fallout had wiped the vitality off of their hearts.

“Am I interrupting a divine revelation?  I could come back later.”

Shion looked down at Nezumi standing several feet away from him with a hand on his waist and a look of tender amusement on his face, gleaming softly in his grey eyes. He smiled at him,

“Did you find the old man?”

“I did but… if you're content hanging around like this, I'm more than happy to indulge..” Nezumi walked towards him and Shion raised his head as he approached to be able to align his gaze with Nezumi’s. “I just can’t get used to how beautiful it is,” he muttered as his hand rose to rest flat against the side of Nezumi’s hip; a gesture without any other reason but simply touching him. “Yeah… I know the feeling,” he heard Nezumi say and then he had leaned down, kissing the crown of his head. Shion sighed happily as Nezumi straightened himself while picking up the backpack between Shion’s legs.

“C’mon, let’s not keep the old man waiting.”

Shion stood up and took the backpack from Nezumi before following him through the woods. He didn’t know what he could be using as a guide to find his way other than his memory because as far as he could see, there was no visible path or no trail of land eroded by human feet. It was just earth; richly covered with overgrown grass and occasional gaps of rocks slickened with moss. Nezumi moved near soundlessly through the branches with Shion right at his heel and neither of them felt the need to talk, leisurely enjoying the sound of the forest extending around them. A faint smell of firewood made Shion raise his head and he figured they had to be close to the old man’s hut by the creek. As if confirming his guess, Nezumi walked out of the forest a few more yards later and stepped into a clearing, holding a relatively thick branch out of the way for Shion to pass. “Thanks,” Shion smiled as he re-settled the backpack against his back.

“I must commend you, you have gotten pretty quiet walking in the forest,” Nezumi offered with a lighthearted smile. “I was tempted to look behind and make sure you were still following a few times.”

Shion felt a warm wave of pride at the compliment. He had been watching Nezumi carefully all this time, trying to pick up a few tricks himself from this elegant creature of the forest. Nature’s invitation had always been audible to Shion. Ever since he was young, he had always been awed by the curiousness of it; the grand order in which seasons rolled and passed by; the numinous power of creation and destruction that gave life come spring and took it back come winter… the beauty of living things that had come to be without the intervention of humanity. The grace of a meadow flower, or the smell of a hyacinth tree.. even the simple shine of a dew drop in early morning sitting on the curve of a leaf… Shion had always been captivated by it. He had a deep-seated wonder for the patterns of life all around him. Only after being in the middle of it like this, had Shion truly understood the underlying reasons for him to be drawn to a field like ecology. He wasn’t innately a part of the wild like Nezumi was, he was the civilized and tamed, fast-paced and fiber clad version of nature’s humans; smelling of synthetic fabrics and equipped with metal instruments that beeped and chimed. But he had always yearned for the natural. The unapologetic manner of the Earth’s growth, the uncalculated beauty of it and its ability to renew itself afresh whether from the winter’s wilt and grey slumber or from the ashes and cinder of human made weapons. Earth always survived. It made Shion feel as if, through Nezumi’s guidance, he was relearning to sing an old song he once knew and had forgotten.

“Thanks, admittedly, I’ve been watching you,” he beamed at him with delight.

“You have been, indeed. And not just my feet either,” Nezumi crooned with a suggestive smile as he tugged on his sleeve to make him move forward. The clearing was covered with pine needles and broken branches—and some seaweed Shion noticed—and there was a small log cabin fifty yards ahead, sitting by the encasing tree line of the forest. In the middle of the clearing; more towards the cabin, a fire was burning with dilatory sounds of splitting wood; a faded steel pot hung above whistled steam into the afternoon air. A man was sitting on a folding chair in the shade the cabin’s roof provided; his back hunched so far down Shion initially thought he must be leaning forward as he followed Nezumi walking towards him. He wore a dark pair of shalwars and a white button-up shirt under a blue vest. His thick, grey eyebrows were shadowed by the peaked cap sitting lopsided atop his head. He watched them approach with alert black eyes that reminded Shion of volcanic pebbles he had seen covering the bed of a lake they had seen a couple of weeks ago. They had been glistening at the bottom of the lake, reminiscent of glazed coal stones; like obsidian. The old man’s eyes had the same kind of quiet glow that indicated an aged patience, matured with equable vigilance. His face was riddled with wrinkles and his skin was tanned darkly; likely from working under the sun for so long. He was a true paralian. Nezumi had told him that this man was the keeper of the Tower.

The old man spoke and it was a language Shion didn’t understand and yet he was startled at how gruff yet raucous his voice was. His whole body moved backwards when he suddenly broke into a mirthful laughter. He threw his head back and slapped his own knee as his thick belly laugh rocked his body. Nezumi chuckled next to Shion and replied in the same language that made Shion turn to face him fully; a look of artless enthrallment dawning on his face. He had never heard Nezumi speak in this language before but it was just like how he had felt when he had heard him speak French the first time; intense admiration and a deep-rooted joy at witnessing sides of him he had never laid eyes on before.

Nezumi caught his eyes and reached a hand to ruffle the top of his hair. “He is saying he is 84 years old and has more color in his hair than you do,” he translated with a grin. “I told you him you are an old man in spirit.”

The old man tugged at Shion’s arm from where he was sitting and pointed at his face, speaking in the same gruff voice that was hardly any different than a grunt. Nezumi smiled, “He says you have pure eyes though.” The man nodded as if he understood what Nezumi was saying before blurting out “Evening eyes,” with a heavy accent.

Shion flushed warmly and smiled at the old man as he placed his hand on top of his.

“Thank you. You are very kind.”

The old man just waved his hand and gestured towards behind them, at the softly whistling teapot Shion realized and understood they were being offered tea. It was too warm for him to drink tea in the late afternoon and apparently Nezumi was of a similar mind. After glancing inquisitively at Shion, he shook his head at the old man and kindly declined his offer. He gave them a toothless smile and said something that made Nezumi burst into a hearty laughter beside him. The old man waved his hand again before pushing himself off the folding chair with a grumble. Nezumi stepped aside to give him room as the man went to put out the fire under the teapot.

“He called us wimps,” Nezumi explained as his form still shook with chuckles. “Tea is serious business for people in these areas. They can drink hot tea any time of the day and consider it an essential offering for guests.”

“Was it alright to decline the offer then?”

“Oh yeah. They aren’t uptight like that. They’ll offer but won’t judge you if you decline. Besides,” Nezumi smiled at him. “He and I had this conversation before.”

The old man walked past them to the door of his cabin and grabbed a long wood staff leaning against the frame before he pointed towards the forest, speaking mainly to Nezumi. Nezumi listened to him and then placed a hand on Shion’s elbow; nudging him forward. “He’ll take us to his boat now.” They followed the man as he entered the forest, walking with regular grunts as he leaned on his staff. Shion was worried he could fall any minute but he seemed to know his way like the inside of his palm. He didn’t step on a single pebble on the ground, nor did he seem oblivious to the branches extended in his way. He moved much faster than Shion had expected him being as old as he was and hunched to this degree, but he had the same, near elegant manner of conquering the forest Nezumi had. Entering without intruding. Crossing without disturbing.

“When did you meet him?” he asked quietly.

“Uh… on my third year of travelling? I was staying at that village we passed through yesterday. The inn-keepers told me about the Tower and I wanted to see it. So I came here and found him like the villagers told me I would.”

“How long do you think he has been here?”

“He said his father was the keeper before him. It seems they all lived in that cabin before his parents died of old age. There is a graveyard behind the house, farther into the forest.”

“Ah… That’s sad. Has he been alone all this time?”

“Oh, no. He said he was married to a woman from the village when he was young. He calls her Derya. Kept bragging how it means ‘sea’. Evidently she died about 10 years ago too.”

Shion stared at the old man’s unnaturally bent back and tried to imagine the reality of living completely alone at a place as remote as this for such a long time. It was far from being dead silent but there wasn’t any sound of human life and the closest settlement was half a day away. It wasn’t like spending a week or two alone in your apartment with the ceaseless sound of city life pressing against your windows. It wasn’t even like taking time off work to spend a month alone in the country. This was his job. He had woken up in this place every day of his life and went to sleep in the same bed. His parents, his wife had died as their time came and he alone had lived on. Having to bury them himself, sharing his nights with nothing but memories of their warmth and the echoes of their voices. This was a kind of solitude Shion couldn’t even wrap his mind around. And yet the old man wasn’t disconsolate. He still smiled from deep within his heart and offered tea to strangers. At such an old age he was still able to provide for himself. Shion wondered whether anyone took care of him. Whether anyone in the village thought about him and wondered what he was doing.

“The village sends a cart for him every month. They use a more roundabout way than the shortcut we used but, yeah, he gets provisions often,” Nezumi elucidated slowly as if he could hear Shion’s thoughts.

“What’s going to happen to the Tower when he…” Shion didn’t finish, eyes fixed at the old man’s back.

Nezumi shrugged with a wistful smile.

“Probably someone else from the village will take over the keeping. He doesn’t have any children. But people of these lands care deeply for their culture and work hard to protect it.”

A passing cloud dimmed the golden tinted air of the forest. Shion thought he could actually feel the temperature cooling a couple of degrees in the shade as his pupils dilated to adjust to change of light. He drew in a deep breath and thought he could smell salt water and knew that it meant they were close to the sea. As if confirming his conclusion, the man came to a stop in front of them and turned around, waiting for the two to get closer. He raised a wrinkled hand marked with old age and gestured towards his left as he spoke through pursed lips.

Nezumi led Shion towards the direction the old man was pointing; which led to another clearing, opening straight into the sea, before he pivoted back to the old man. Shion waited by the tree line as they spoke to each other. The water was so calm the waves only made a soft swishing sound against the rocky shore. The curve of the creek with its lush vegetation hid the Tower from sight but Shion knew from what Nezumi had told him that it was only 15-20 minutes away by boat, close to the coastland. The rowboat in question was pulled ashore and tied securely to a stake nailed deep into the earth.

Shion couldn’t hear Nezumi’s soft spoken voice but the old man’s stentorian talk could easily reach his ears. He decided although a bit nasal, the language was quite beautiful. As he watched, the old man placed his hand over his chest and bowed his head lightly at Nezumi who mirrored the gesture at once before leaving the man in the forest and joining Shion.

“He says you should wear a hat. He is worried you might get a heatstroke,” Nezumi translated for the old man as he dropped his backpack in the rowboat. Shion did the same. “Did you know people with dark hair are more likely to experience a heat stroke?”

Nezumi looked up from placing the backpacks in the rowboat on opposite sides; balancing each other’s weight. There was a betrayed look on his face. “Are you serious?”

Shion laughed at his expression. “Yes. Because while lighter colors might reflect the light and heat waves, dark colors will actually absorb it.” He stood next to Nezumi as they both pushed the rowboat into the sea, the calm surface of the water breaking at the intrusion. Shion straightened up and shook off the dirt and earth of his hands before poking a finger against Nezumi’s chest.

“That’s why I keep saying you shouldn’t wear such dark colors all the time. You look just as handsome in blues and whites as you do in blacks.”

“Alright, Mom. I’ll keep that in mind,” Nezumi replied with a grin and Shion smacked his arm.

“Don’t even start with that or I’ll tell on you to my mother. Then you’ll see what a real mother does about something like this.”

The look of genuine apprehension on Nezumi’s face made Shion double with laughter. He held the side of the boat as he laughed freely in a land unknown to him, christening the creek with the sound of his light-hearted voice.

Shion sat in the boat as Nezumi undid the knot on the stake and pushed the rowboat further into the water before jumping in; much like a gazelle mid-bounce, sending sparkling water droplets in every direction with the movement of his body… as graceful as ever. Shion had already placed the oars in their locks and when Nezumi began rowing, he pushed his feet up against the soles of his, providing him leverage for the task at hand.

“I feel weird with you rowing. Am I supposed to just sit here and watch you do the whole job?”

“Have you ever rowed a boat before?” Nezumi asked with a teasing glow in his grey eyes. The shade of the cloud had already passed and he was bathed in golden afternoon light. It hung in the locks of his hair, gleaming like black pearls and spilled into his eyes through long, dark lashes. For a moment Shion lost track of the steady sound of the oars cutting through the water and gazed mystified at his incandescent eyes. He idly wondered if this is how people in pre-historic times felt when they stared into the night sky, reveling the light of the stars and devoting themselves to sabaism. When Nezumi arched an eyebrow he traced his thoughts back to reality and tried to remember what he had just been asked.

“Uh… me? No. But it’s never too late to learn, right?”

The corner of Nezumi’s mouth made an amused bow as he lightly shook his head. He pulled the oars into the boat and reached a hand out to him.

“C’mere.”

“Huh? Now? What if we capsize?”

“We won’t if you don’t make big moves. Just crawl.”

Shion held Nezumi’s extended hand and slid down the bench on his knees. With his other hand, he grabbed the side of the boat and scooted towards Nezumi.

“Turn around. Good. Yeah, just sit right there. Perfect.”

Shion found himself sitting in between Nezumi’s legs, his back against Nezumi’s chest. Nezumi pushed the oars back into the water. His arms extended forward around Shion’s form and he reached for his hands, holding them and situating them over the handles of the oars.

“There. Now try to feel the motion. You aren’t pushing the water; you are pushing yourself forward through the water.”

Shion felt the muscles in his forearms stretch as he pushed the oars back through the water, making the boat glide through the surface.

“Good. Just like that. It’s like a clockwork. Let the oarlocks do the job. Just push.”

Shion quickly fell into the rhythm of the motion, enjoying the way their arms moved together. The coastland jutting into the sea from the creek obscuring the Tower slowly receded before their eyes as they rowed in unison. Across the sunlit path sparkling on the surface of the water, the frame of a man-made structure stood tall against the calm sea. The Maiden Tower, erected off the coast hundreds of years ago had remained intact and unchanged despite the passage of time, despite the wars and disastrous changes in the climate. It was nothing like what Shion thought it would be and yet it was beyond anything his imagination had produced at the same time. It was built with skilled masonry; a house-like foundation with maroon roof tiles and tall windows and a tower looming above it, encased with a balcony that looked down at the strait between two continents. It had an otherworldly feel to it; something that invited and captivated; something that showed human touch against the nature claimed forests and waters devoid of ships. It stood like a touchstone; showcasing a glimpse of what was really here so many years ago. It didn’t look like anything Shion had seen before and yet the mere sight of it filled him with warmth. It was plain, ivory stone against deep blue and beautiful without hyperbole.

Shion realized Nezumi had stopped rowing. His chin was propped on his shoulder; arms circling his waist. He was watching the slowly growing tower as the rowboat settled to drift off-shore towards the small islet with a listless glide. Seagulls crowed above their head as sunlight glistened off the surface; a golden mirage of a path of light, as if touched by Midas’s hand.

“I wanted to come here with you.”

His voice was low; quiet in the softest of ways that only surfaced when he unbent in the rare moments he had nothing to hide. Shion leaned into him, arms wrapping over his on his waist as they gazed up at the tower before them.

“And you did. Thank you for showing this to me.”

Nezumi’s lips brushed against his hair and tenderly planted a kiss on his temple. Gentle waves rocked the rowboat in dilatory attempts, accompanied by soft splashes as they licked the hull.

“It has a story, you know,” Nezumi muttered close to his ear after a while.

“Is it a sad one?” Shion asked; wistful in the way certain beautiful things evoke sadness and spell-bound at the same time.

“Hmm… depends on how you look at it I’d say.” Nezumi’s thumbs brushed lightly against his hands. Shion turned his palms upwards, threading his fingers through Nezumi’s.

“Tell me.”

“Alright,” he chuckled softly in his ear.

“There was a city called Sestos across the strait.” Nezumi pointed towards the lands in the backdrop of the Maiden Tower where the sun was approaching the horizon. “The tower belonged to a monastery in the city and housed a handful of young priestesses worshipping the Goddess of love, Aphrodite. They could only leave the tower in spring, when they could join the festivals celebrating the awakening of nature. And in one of these festivals, a young maiden from the Tower, Hero, fell in love with a young man called Leander. She fell for him the moment she saw him dance to goblet drums and reeds and sing to the heavens a song of spring romance.”

Shion listened captivated as Nezumi’s mellifluous sound painted the images before him. The crispness of the spring evening; the music of the festival chiming in cobblestoned streets as people laughed and danced with the joy of nature’s resurrection in their hearts; the group of girls from the monastery, all dressed in white caftans and huddled close a little away from the crowd… he could imagine all of it.

“What Hero didn’t know was that Leander had also caught a glimpse of her through the crowd, had seen her big blue eyes widen upon meeting his and he too, had felt the rush of warmth filling his heart as he had also felt the pang of irony at having his heart stolen by a servant of the Goddess of love, knowing that as servants of Aphrodite, they could never love any man. And yet, Leander chased after her when she ran away, caught her at the harbor by the edge of the water as the crowd feasted and caroused while singing into the night and he kissed her under the silver of full moon.” The rowboat was slowly turning port-side in the low current. Nezumi turned his head towards the tower as he continued to speak; his voice rising and falling like the breeze, flowing through Shion.

“Hero returned to the Maiden Tower. But Leander swore to see her again. And true to his word, he swam across the strait to the islet to meet with Hero in spring’s moonless nights. She would climb the tower and light a lamp at the top of the tower to guide him across the sea. And they spent the freshness of their vernal days and the passion of midsummer nights together and Hero abandoned her oath to Aphrodite and gave herself to Leander.

“They were enraptured and filled with the frenzy of love and in the listless calm of their small sanctuary; they made vows to each other as their heartbeats slowed down and their breaths quieted. And in a late summer day, ardent to meet his lover once again, Leander crossed the sea before twilight and failed to notice the watching eyes of another priestess.”

Nezumi’s voice had turned rueful and Shion sensed a looming danger for Hero and Leander. He turned his face towards Nezumi’s side-view and watched his eyes wander up the height of the Maiden Tower; dark lashes moving languidly, before his eyes wanderer into the horizon, tinted orange with the evening sun.

“The priestess informed the monastery and Hero was sentenced to death for committing the gravest of crimes servants of Aphrodite forsworn to abstain from. And on a late September day, she was to be killed by the clergymen of the monastery but Leander went against Hero’s last wish for him to run away, forget about her and live on and he decided to cross the strait to save the woman he loved. But it wasn’t summer anymore and the waters of the strait were nowhere near as forgiving; wild with fall’s winds and restless with heavy currents. No longer was Hero’s lamp at the top of the tower, lit to guide his way and Leander got lost in the sea and was soon swallowed by the waves.

“Hero learned about Leander’s fate the day of her execution. His body had been dragged out of the water miles away and there was nothing anyone could do to save him.” Nezumi looked down at Shion. His eyes were bottomless as his gaze remained fixed on his eyes. Shion knew from the burn in his eyes that his feelings were betraying his composure. Not only was he completely taken by the story that was painted before him by Nezumi's voice but there was also something profoundly devastating in his eyes as he gazed at him. Something staggering and intimate. His voice carried like a melody, reverberating with notes of grief and melancholy. Shion's heart ached.

“Hero asked the mother-priest to allow her to climb the tower one last time before her sentence was carried out. Convinced that Hero wanted a final chance to pray and beg for forgiveness from the Goddess of love before she died, the mother-priest conceded. And Hero climbed the tower one last time, lifting the skirts of her white caftan off her feet and she walked out onto the balcony and stared long at the harbor where Leander had given her her first kiss.” Nezumi’s hand rose and his fingers ran through Shion’s hair; from the crown of his head to the side of his face until his fingers curled around his neck and his thumb rested on his cheek. And then from his lips spilled a song. In the voice of a woman’s; in the voice of Hero, he sang a song of spring and joy but it was sung with a vast sorrow and his voice was tremulous with such emotion Shion found himself near tears. Through her lips, the song was neither joyous, nor festive. It was a mournful song of a love long lost and a heartbreaking promise to be reunited in the end.

_ In the gold of spring daisies _   
_ In the heart of meadows greens _   
_ We shall dance again _   
_ We shall live again _   
  
_ O darling how I've missed _   
_ The colors of your spring daises_   
_ We shall dance again _   
_ We shall live again _

_ Unclothe your winter’s frozen caress _   
_ The spring has come for us again _   
_ The sea’s light is glowing in your eyes _   
_ The sun’s fire is in your palms _   
_ And I’ll live a thousand winter times_   
_ To dance in your spring daises  _

_ And I’ll live a thousand times  
To dance in your spring daises  _

Shion understood this was the song Hero had listened to Leander sing the day she had first seen him. He didn’t even attempt to hide the tears that welled up in his eyes. He understood that Hero had never climbed down the stairs of the tower, she had never returned to the mother-priest. She had sung Leander’s song atop the Maiden Tower and then jumped to her death.

Nezumi’s thumb brushed the underside of his eye, wiping away a stray tear. He smiled softly.

“I guess it is a sad story after all.”

“Yes but…” Shion looked up at the tower painted in the colors of fire. “In the given circumstances, I think it could be worse.”

“True. At the very least, Hero died on her own terms.”

“Because there was no meaning in a world without him.”

“… Yeah.” Nezumi followed his gaze.  He sighed. “And that’s why it’s called the Maiden Tower.”

They sat silent in the small rowboat as the day’s light drained from the eastern lands, seeping into the sea and dyeing it amber. Midas’s path was on fire, creating the illusion of a sea ablaze and Shion realized he had never felt as disconnected to his life back in No.6 as he did right now. He didn’t want to return. He wanted to continue traveling with Nezumi, discovering all the colors that he had never seen, bear the exhaustion of climbing mountains and walking across planes. He wanted to taste the wind on his tongue and feel the earth in his hands. He wanted his hair to smell like sea water and his skin to be kissed by the sun. He wanted to be an inseparable part of the world Nezumi had seen, follow the prints of his solitary footsteps from years before until he could map out, inch by inch, every mile that had separated them. Until he could associate every mark and line on Nezumi’s body with the earth and the wind and the sea of the world. Until he knew why he could smile the way he did now, how he could unfold, how he had grown… how he had _changed_. And beyond all that… he wanted to discover himself the way Nezumi had; through the eyes of strangers and the imprints of places long forgotten; through centuries old stories that helped him understand his own and through moments; unexpected and profound.. when the memories of the past returned with brand new realizations.

When they returned to the shore, the sun was already half swallowed by the mountains across the strait. Shion stood beside the water as Nezumi tied the boat to the stake and he watched the calm waves lick the moss coated rocks beneath his feet. Hero’s song was still echoing in his ears and it burned with a familiar ache in his heart. He turned his head towards Nezumi’s direction as he rose from the stake and smacked the dirt of his pants with his hands. Shion smiled at him with a sense of deep compassion, like he had smiled at his back years ago at the top of a hill he had learned to resent. His eyes were wet.

“You know, Nezumi, I know how Hero felt.”

Nezumi stared at him as the look Shion had seen on his face in a place completely different from this, under the spray of sprinklers and bearing wounds of all kinds reclaimed his features. Shion reached a hand to him before what he said… what he had tried not to say for so long… could hurt him further. He held his hand and placed his other over his cheek, smiling softly as his voice came out low, quivering; and yet full of love.

“And I think, you know how she felt too.”

“Shion..”

“It’s okay. I never blamed you for leaving.”

“You should have.”

“But I don’t. And you shouldn’t either.”

Nezumi’s gaze held his and his grey eyes were glazed with mist. His lips were pursed in a thin line and he was clenching his jaw so hard, the muscles in his neck were twitching. Shion closed the small distance between them and wrapped his arms around his neck; pulling himself flush against him. He held him in his arms like he had the first time he had seen him cry, and similarly, he felt his hands clutch at the back of his shirt. Nezumi buried his face in the crook of his neck and Shion held him until the rapid beating of his heart slowed down and his breathing hushed. He held him tight until they were ready to look at each other again.

Nezumi’s eyes were still misty but he looked calmer. Shion held the straps of his backpack with both hands and kissed him softly on the lips.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Let’s go before the old man comes running thinking we’ve drowned.”

“I like that you didn’t put running past him.”

“I think he could beat me in a race.”

“I bet he could.”

“.. I wonder if he has any tea left.”

Nezumi looked at him with disbelief before shaking his head.

“And _now_ you want tea.”

“Of course I do. Don’t you?”

“… Maybe.”

Shion picked up his backpack and together they pulled the boat further up the shore as much as the rope would allow, preventing it from slipping back into the sea in high tide. The sun had set and there was a powdery violet tint to the evening air, suffused with the scent of the sea and oleaster trees. They walked to the edge of the forest to start their trek back to the old man’s cabin… Shion turned around to look at the creek one last time, acknowledging that he had left a part of himself here; an old and hurt part of him had fallen and spilled into the sea… but he had also found a better part of himself. A part that could heal and mend itself and accept that he was still okay.. even if he admitted having been hurt.

_This_ was how Nezumi had changed.

When Shion was ready to leave, he found Nezumi’s eyes on him. He stood by the edge of the forest, body weight leaning more on one foot than the other and his thumb hooked under the strap of his backpack. There was a look of deep affection on his face that even after all this time.. still made Shion’s heart skip a beat.

“He was right, you know,” Nezumi said, smiling warmly.

“Who?”

“The old man.”

“About what?”

“Your evening eyes.”

Shion laughed.

“Interesting contrast then.”

“With what?”

Shion smiled sheepishly. He decided he could admit two things in one day.

“I always thought yours look like the crack of dawn.”

* * *

❇ _**The End**_

**Author's Note:**

> The song 'We Shall Dance Again' is an old Turkish folk song. I translated it since it fit the story quite well. It's been quite a while since I wrote a full fanfiction like this, so, I apologize if you find it awkward. I've been wanting to write this for a long time and I am really happy I finally felt pressured enough to put it on paper. So for that, thank you No.6 Week.   
>  This fanfiction is a tribute and a gift to [Red Eyes Gold Eyes](http://red-eyes-gold-eyes.tumblr.com). They haven't been around in a while but I am hoping they' will still see this as this is me, finally keeping my word. Thank you for everything you have brought into this fandom and for rekindling some of our motivation and inspiration with your beautiful art. I hope from the bottom of my heart that, no matter what, you'll be happy.


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